Viral Monster
by MikeX713
Summary: Dexter Morgan is a man that has found himself in a battle between two unholy powers. Between beings that were anything but human. The fighting forces of Blacklight have found new pawns in the form of two Serial Killers. Two brothers that are given a battlefield where the weapons are some of the worst the world has ever seen.
1. Milk and Energy Drinks

Author – MikeX713

Beta – Dracomancer1

Disclaimer, I don't own anything except for OCs. Please don't sue me.

 **Author's Warning.**

 **This is a spinoff of the Prototype/Saints Row crossover Viral Saints. I recommend reading that first before reading this. So don't expect this to be too close to a pure Dexter/Prototype crossover as it will have lore and characters to my other story. I will try to explain as many references as I can within the context of this story but I still do think it would be best to read the main story first. I hope that many can still enjoy this story. Thank you.**

 **Second –** There is a Blacklight Codex up on my profile for the new stuff I have added. If there is something about the Blacklight virus in the Viral Saints world that isn't there and you want to know about it. Review on the Codex story and tell me.

 **Third** \- I will be updating this story every week. I have the first 20k words, four chapters done. But that's it for this story. Then I will on to the next spin-off. I will post four chapters for each spin-off and then rotate between the Dexter, Sons of Anarchy, and Watch_Dogs spin-offs. Thank you for your understanding.

* * *

Tonight's the night. It had to be for Dexter. So much preparation and planning should never go unrewarded. True, in the last few years these nights of blood had become far more easy to plan now that he had help. It was a strange idea, that someone would willingly help a serial killer in his gruesome activity. But that was his life, five years ago he had found himself under the banner of one Keambiroiro, more often called the General. At the time he was a rising figure in both the public eye and the criminal underworld. Now, he was one of the largest players in the drug trade and he commanded the largest street gang in Miami, the Saints of Samedi. He also was a beloved icon of charity, publicly the face of many soup kitchens and homeless shelters. Never before had the term two faced fitted a man so perfectly.

How did Dexter fit into this man's operations? Simple, Dexter once attempted to kill one of the General's… family, a term used loosely for reasons that, even after years of knowing the truth, he still had a hard time grasping. Dexter was about to perform his normal ritual of blood when the General himself had stopped it and taken him away to one of his properties. There, he had Dexter tortured and questioned by his right hand man Abdalla, an enforcer with fanatical loyalty to his boss. The General quickly found out just what Dexter was and, unbelievably, set the serial killer free on the condition that the he be contacted before each kill. All so that Dexter can be told if his target was in fact another of Miami's largest extended family.

That had been the agreement in the beginning: Stay away from each other, and neither would interfere in the other's business. But then around a year later… Dexter started getting help from people he had never even met before. There had been one time where something had gone wrong with the tranquilizer dosage and his target had woken up before they had arrived at his kill room. The man had freed himself, tumbled out of the back of the van he was being transported in and almost escaped, only to be knocked out by a passing gardener wielding a shovel. Dexter's sociopathic heart had stopped in his chest as his life flashed before his eyes, but instead the gardener just tipped his hat and walked away. Later, the General called the serial killer to gloat and stroke his own ego for helping Dexter in his lethal trade.

Ever since that incident he had been receiving help from outside sources that he never would have thought possible. Car dealerships would leave unmarked loaner vehicles near his work and put the keys in his mailbox, "lost" inventory of garbage bags and plastic wrap would find their way into his garage, and kitchen store cashiers would ignore the cost of any knives he tried to buy. Hell, he even saw a police officer _wink_ at him as he was driving to his boat with a fresh kill in the trunk. But Dexter was smart, he knew what these seemingly benign gifts really were. It was a tactic to make him reliant on the Saints and their commander for support. So Dexter avoided it all as best he could. He kept to his normal Code set by his adoptive father Harry Morgan. He kept to his routines and rules, he did what he did because he needed it and not on the whims of some gangster. Dexter continued the original agreement, he told the General of his kills and only two times had he been told to find another.

Tonight was no different. Tonight he was hunting down one Matthew Caldwell. Mr. Caldwell was a low level office monkey, the kind that people rarely ever gave a second thought to. Balding, hunched over, never making eye contact or initiating conversation, he was the type that would be perfect in the background, just there… never really noteworthy. This played perfectly to the man's own dark needs. Dexter found, through digging, that beneath the unassuming and rather bland surface lurked a monster nearly as vicious as himself. It started with a string of disappearances that shared the odd coincidence of each having gone to the same church, one that had been closed down by a fire about a decade ago. A little bit of after-dark snooping, and Dexter found nail-holes on an unburnt patch of wall. UV light revealed fresh blood spatter from where _someone_ had nailed the victims to the wall before stabbing them to death in a grotesque reenactment of the crucifixion of Jesus. He found that Matthew had a list of targets, former churchgoers that for whatever reason he found to be less than worthy of God's grace. Dexter had already met the office drone as part of his ritual, posing as a new neighbor that wanted info on local churches that might be good for him and his very real and religious family. Matthew had instantly clammed up and rudely blew Dexter off, giving him the idea that maybe something had happened in the past at the church that caused him to act out in this way. It didn't matter, he fit the Code… and Dexter had never been that picky before.

Dexter had watched his target's movements closely, and right now Matthew should be leaving his office and going to a small gas station to pick up a refill on milk and energy drinks. It was perfect, low light, no cameras. And so… Dexter reeled in his target hook, line, and sinker. The next thing Matthew knew he was strapped to a table in the charred ruins of his former church, a spotlight shining down on him from above.

"Welcome back… hope you slept well." Dexter said, looking over his tools as he heard the stirring of his captive. His voice was a quiet monotone, grim and emotionless. Dexter rarely felt anything real… he knew he _could_ , sometimes. But again… rarely. It was just a part of what made him-him. He used to think of himself as a monster, more like the horrible creatures that nearly destroyed New York years ago than real humans. But now… he knew that the monsters out there were nothing like him. He had learned that even monsters could feel, sometimes monsters could feel even more than humans.

"Where… where am I?" Matthew demanded as he tried to move. He wasn't a very fit man, though not particularly out of shape either. Still, he clearly lacked the muscle needed to get out of the plastic wrap that held him to the table. Slowly, his eyes adjusted as he looked away from the light. "This… no no NO NO! Why… why did you have to bring me here?!"

"Poetic, maybe… found this to be something important to you. Important enough to be where you felt the need to kill three people that used to go here with you all those years ago." Dexter said as he slowly drew a scalpel across Matthew's cheek. "Am I wrong… does this place not hold… any meaning to you?" Dexter continued his ritual by taking a drop of blood and placing it on a slide.

"Fuck you it has meaning… this… this is where all those fucking **whores** came and prayed. They all knew **exactly** what was going on… and they did nothing! They all knew. They had to… and yet they came every Sunday and pretended that nothing was wrong!"

"Oh so many things can be guessed from that… but let's just go with the most common assumption. Altar boy and the priest?" Dexter asked, not really that interested, but he felt like he had to. The venomous glare he got back said everything. "You don't want to say it because it becomes real… well then…. I think we're done here."

* * *

"Are you saying that the shipment will not be at the docks by next month?" The General asked his contact over the phone. He was an imposing man, his impossibly deep African-accented voice could make any normal man freeze with fear, and when you met him in person… all hope of defiance went out the window.

"Yes General… the men in Cuba are saying they want a bigger cut. They're holding our cargo ransom until we pay up." His man said over the phone. His soldiers and associates never feared him, it was to him that they all owed their lives, and they knew so long as they did their job, they would be taken care of and want for nothing.

"I see… wait for further orders and continue watching the situation." The General stated and closed the call. He leaned back in his leather seat and pondered this most recent news. He was currently riding around in his mobile headquarters, a limo that had been outfitted with all that he would need to protect his person and allow him to run his criminal empire and more legitimate ventures.

"What now General?" His right-hand man Abdalla asked the man seethed at what the Cubans had done to his boss. "This is the third time these unworthy piles of scum have insulted you. To dare to demand more from you, when all you have done is provide them with good business….."

"Calm my friend… I believe they have only insulted me _twice_. That first time they demanded payment up front was not a slight. We were but an unknown to them and Miami, we had yet to gain the reputation we have now." The General said before taking a drag from his cigar. "Then they took half of our shipment of cocaine, such disrespect I overlooked because I am a forgiving man."

"Yes General, you are something far greater than the masses that should serve your every whim," Abdalla said in reverence to his leader.

"But this time, I will not allow them to insult me again without punishment." The General commanded with calm fury. "These Cuban smugglers… are they in any way connected to the Cuban government?" The General asked as he resettled back into his seat.

"No General. They are very much wanted by the Castros."

"And are they connected to the CIA?"

"No… they are independent of all governments. It was one of their positive attributes which drew us to their services."

"Good, you will take a single Horror… and deploy it within their territory." The General ordered without thought of the chaos he would be causing. These men had insulted him for the last time, and they must be punished and as such were unworthy of his concern.

"I do not mean to question your orders General… but… is it wise to use the Horrors? What happened in Montreal is still felt by all." Abdalla said with a bit of uneven nervousness in his voice. The stories that came from their allies in the north did not paint a pretty picture.

"It was not the Horrors' fault that they went out of control and needed to be put down. It was Mercer's foolishness in allowing one to roam free for so long that caused the deaths of so many. That is why I am sending you along with the Horror; you will keep a tight watch over it."

"By your order, General." Abdalla said with a slight bow and moments later the limo stopped while the lieutenant stepped out, leaving the General alone. The gang leader ordered the limo to continue its ride as he still had a meeting to attend. He finished his current cigar and prepared another and as he did so the screen across from his seat turned on and displayed the logo of the organization he belonged to. It was a white ring radiating small hooks, and inside was a red biohazard symbol with red veins connecting the two. At the center of the symbol was a white fleur-de-lis. The screen then flashed over to a confident looking man with blond hair and a smirk that could win awards.

"Mr. Vogel… to what do I owe this meeting?" This was Dane Vogel, head of the corporate arm of the nameless group that the General was a part of. He himself was one of three active heads of the criminal arm of the organization.

"Keambiroiro, what's it been… three years since we've talked? Miami still sunny as ever?" The man asked with total familiarity that the General felt he even now still did not deserve. Dane was a ruthless businessman, and while the General personally respected him for his intelligence and accomplishments, he simply couldn't stand the man.

"Simply paradisal, now please get to why you have called me." The General ground out, which only caused Dane's smirk to grow.

"Damn, Generalissimo, aren't you in your normal foul mood. I guess a pleasant chat is off the table. Straight to business, first… Alex will be coming to Miami soon for a Saints Brand expo. He will want to talk to you on both the Horrors you haven't put into a deep freeze and the fact you have a Natural." Dane explained, externally the General kept his air of composed calm perfectly. Internally he was going over various means to get out of the coming fight with his leader. Alex Mercer. Zeus, Supreme Alpha of the Blacklight Hive Mind, Boss of the Saints Criminal Empire, puppet master of the clothing mega-company Ultor.

"The Horrors are under control. I have killed all but three of them, and have the pods containing those remaining three under guard at all times. As for the Natural… I was not aware that Evolved were forbidden from having Mates and thus having children. Or did that change when I wasn't looking?"

"No, Evolved can still very much have kids and love each other. The problem is that those kids are massive risks, Naturals at best will see humans the same way a human would see a dog. At worst… well… there's a reason why our young scientist friend makes so many Nazi jokes on the subject." Dane grumbled as he looked off to the side for a second. "The reason why Alex would want to speak to you about the Natural is because Naturals as a whole are still a very little-understood development. They still number in the single digits and we know very little about what they could grow to be. As it stands, that's just barely enough to not outlaw Mating and start Consuming all the Naturals. The Boss'll want to meet the Natural and likely want her to at one point to travel to Stilwater to have Atshushi check her up."

"He can meet her when he arrives in Miami… but unless the parents are willing to come with her north then she stays." The General stated with no intention of budging on the subject.

"Not sure how that would fly with Alex… more than likely he'll shoot you in the head a few times." Dane sighed before pulling over a few pieces of paper work he was doing absentmindedly. "The last thing I wanted you to know is that we have reason to think Eden might be acting toward your Hive soon."

"What?! And you think to only inform me NOW?!" The General raged as the news that one of the few enemies that could actually hurt him and his own was moving towards him soon.

"Yes, I do, _because_ it is unverified. You know as good as anyone, Eden plays these games. Only one out of ten of his threats and plays end up being true. Just something to keep in mind, okay?" Dane said in about the most honest tone Keambiroiro had heard from the man.

"Very well… I will keep my eyes open for attack. Now enough of this, get back to your ivory tower and leave me to my plans." He said before closing the connection. The conference call had not left the General in a good mood. He breathed a bit to try and calm himself from the news that had been shared. The news that his only superior was coming and that he was displeased with him was not good. The news that one of the few real threats to the General was circling his operations was even worse.

"General… we have arrived at the meeting place." His driver told him through the small window between cabins. "The Venegas Cartel is already here and awaiting you." The General had yet to calm himself down. He was not in a good mood to see these fools; they were often brash and rude to him. He could normally brush such things off but now… he would need to control himself.

"Very well…" The General growled as before he stepped out of the limo. He looked up and saw eight men waiting for him in the empty parking structure where this meeting was taking place. Five of them were heavily armed, likely because they had heard the rumors about Abdalla and expected him to be here with the General. The fact all the men visibly relaxed at his second's absence was confirmation of this.

" _Crema…_ so nice to see you." The lead man mocked with the bastardization of his name. Normally they would not dare do such a thing with Abdalla around, but now that he was absent they showed their true colors. "Where's your little doggy, you leave him chained up back at home for being a bad boy?" The General had no time for this, his temper was already at a boiling point, and these fools were not helping.

"You know… I've weighed the costs of this meeting." The General said as he finished off his cigar. "And… I have found that it will be worth it."

"Alright, now we are talking." The man said clearly thinking that the General had come to agree to the terms they had sent him and his gang.

"Yes… I have found it worth the trouble it will cause if I kill you to help with my foul mood." The General with his glare turning hard on them. The men with guns pulled up their weapons and pointed them straight at the former warlord.

"Careful creamy… we've got you outnumbered here. Plus… we have these nice big guns pointed right at you. Doubt that whatever armor you've got under that fancy suit can take all this lead."

"Why don't you test your theory?" The General taunted before taking a step toward the men.

"Oh well… and here I heard you were smart _Crema_." The man said before snapping his fingers as the five thugs opened fire on the General, and for a full minute the parking structure was filled with the sound of automatic gunfire. The only reason why the men even stopped their shooting was because the General had not fallen over dead from all the bullets cutting through him. The shooters stopped and gawked at the sight before them. First off, the General was wearing a full white suit with the only color being a purple undershirt. Even after taking who knows how many bullets to his body… not a drop of blood stained the spotless jacket. All they could stare at, though, was his head, the bullets that had hit his face had either ripped and torn pieces off or remained stuck in his forehead. The cartel representatives and their guards all watched in horror as those same bullets were pushed out of his head and the wounded parts of his face healed back to normal within seconds.

"If that is all you have to offer… I afraid that you pose little in the way of threat to me." The General said before cracking his neck. He was no normal human, he was an Evolved, a Viral Being of Blacklight, a virus that had destroyed New York City years ago and had since been changed and evolved by the Supreme Alpha and master of Blacklight, Alex Mercer. Keambiroiro was no average Evolved, if such a thing could be said about any of them. He was an Alpha of his own Hive, the ruler of said Hive with unrivaled power in combat and authority.

"W-what… what the fuck are you?" The cartel thug asked in terror as he watched the General's right arm shift in a mass of dark green and black tendrils forming a blade that extended from his wrist and another from his elbow.

"Does it really matter if I explain it to you." The General said before rushing over with inhuman speed and bisecting the man clean down from head to groin. The others' faces contorted in horror at the sight of gore and unnatural means of death of their leader. But the General didn't waste any more time and quickly decapitated the two men that had been standing next to the loudmouth. Two of the guards quickly panicked and began spraying down Keambiroiro with bullets that did nothing to the Alpha. The three others obeyed the flight side of their instincts and didn't even see their fellow criminals get killed in some of the most gruesome manner possible. The General lunged and sliced the next thug into pieces and then threw a tendril out from his other hand, piercing the second to last man's brain before retracting it back. He then sent it toward the last and caught the man around his legs and pulled him back to the General.

"No! No no no… _¡Esto no puede estar sucediendo!_ " The man screamed out as he tried to claw his way away from the approaching Evolved. He soon was pulled up off the ground and then felt the General punch his fist through his gut. The last thing the man saw was a mass of tendrils extending over his body and then blackness. The man was killed as Keambiroiro Consumed his flesh and memories.

"Ah… so that's where you've been hiding your drug labs… very good." The General sighed as he went over the collected knowledge of the consumed thug. Tendrils extended out from his feet and spread across the floor of the parking structure, aiming for the still warm piles of bloody meat. The Blacklight tendrils swiftly did their job and ate up the freshly-slaughtered biomass.

* * *

Completely ignorant of the goings-on in Miami's underbelly, Dexter had just arrived onto a crime scene that his sister was caught up in. Debra Morgan, dutiful cop and good sibling with a foul mouth was, as always, totally unaware of both the lurking monsters in Miami and Dexter's midnight hobby. This particular crime scene wasn't hers, though. No, It just happened to take place at the motel that she had set up for _her_ Vice string operation. Not that she liked that fact very much, it was her dream to get out of Vice and into Homicide.

"You better be a cop." The question had slightly snapped Dexter out of his own thoughts but not much, just enough to flash the muscleheaded beat cop his forensics badge. _Blood spatter analyst_ , that was his job in the Miami police department. It fit so well with his passions.

"Dex!" Debra called out to him as he entered the crime scene, she was still in her hooker suit. Dexter didn't have the best grasp of human emotion, and one of the biggest gaps in that was the need for sex, so the idea of paying for it he could never understand. After all, the money could be spent on so much more worthwhile things… like plastic wrap and new saw blades.

"Hey, what's up?" Dexter replied, normal human interaction was always so much easier with his adoptive sister, another piece of his mind he had no innate understanding of. He had often told himself that if he could feel love, any kind of love, it would most likely be for Deb. Dexter quickly entered the room with a single question was on his mind. "Geez Deb, where do you hide your gun?" He asked as she closed the door behind him. With an eye-roll, the joke was completely ignored.

"They found another hooker… in the pool." She said as she changed out her cigarette for a fresh one, her tone showing her worry over the situation. Dexter knew it was for the dead rather than the threat of her being the next victim. He knew her well enough to know _that_.

"Another?"

"Chopped up in bits and pieces. That's the third one in five months. First, they said it was just gang stuff since all the girls were part of the SoS, but now… they think it might be a serial killer." That caught Dexter's attention. Both since the SoS, or the Saints of Samedi, was the gang ruled by the General and because this meant there was another person like him out in the wilds of Miami.

"Why do they think that?" Dexter asked faking his surprise and just a tiny bit of fear.

"The other two were in Broward, that's heavy SoS turf. But this far south… then there's the freakiness of it. Chopping the body up and displaying it like that in the pool. That's not gang shit, only fucking psychos do shit like that." Dexter had to disagree, only _sloppy_ psychos did shit like this. He was a very neat and tidy psycho that made sure to clean up after himself. Originally he had dumped his leftovers into the ocean, but now took them to the General where the leftover Biomass of his victims was processed for resources. Personally, he still couldn't care less what happened to those he killed after he got what he needed, but the Code was clear: Don't get caught, and at least this way the corpses he left behind served some utility as well.

"Any suspects?" Dexter asked as he looked out the window. If this guy was careless enough to leave behind his victims then maybe he was stupid enough to do that old criminal stereotype: return to the scene of the crime.

"Wish I knew, I'm on Vice, so LaGuerta sent me to my room and told me to stay out of sight," Deb said clearly upset at this.

"God forbid she listens to what you have to say."

"Tell me about it. How does someone so dumb have so much power?" Dexter knew the answer, because people with real power let the dumb ones have power. LaGuerta was only promoted to be used as a tool by the General who had his fingers deep in the police department. Not that she knew this. It was also as a means to get under the skin of James Doakes, the Sergeant in Homicide and LaGuerta's former partner. The General and Doakes had a history, one that took place years ago before the General had moved his operations to America and before Blacklight had destroyed New York, back when the then-ordinary man was just another African Warlord hunted by James' ranger unit. To this day the exact details of the Black Operations were known only to the two of them, but the General obviously came out the victor seeing as he survived.

"She knows how to play the game… knows which friends to have. You can never have too many friends… only the wrong ones sometimes." Deb looked at Dexter for a moment like he had given away something. Those thoughts were swiftly blown off as she could never see her dorky little brother getting involved in the "wrong" type of friends.

"Not really interested in playing games or making friends right now. Just want to find the bastard that's doing this to my girls." Deb said before taking a drag.

"You can't get so emotionally invested." Because then that's just something for people to use. Thankfully he was incapable of exhibiting that particular weakness.

"You always say that." Dexter knew that it was unlikely for Deb to listen to cold logic, she simply wasn't a person to think that way.

"So did dad." So Dexter needed to use the best weapon against Deb that was certainly not based in logic.

"Yeah but he also said go after what you want…." The thing about trying to use their father as a means to control Deb, it rarely worked out the way Dexter wanted. "... and I _want_ out of Vice and into Homicide."

"What can I do to help?" Dexter didn't really want to help, but family was sacred. That was one of the rules his Viral acquaintances lived by, and it tended to apply to real human life too.

"You get these hunches, you know? _These_ types of murders."

"Only sometimes." He deflected, _Dexter the serial killer whisperer_ … letting that talent raise people's eyebrows was a bad idea.

"Well, see if you get one this time. And can I bounce some ideas off you later? I always get smarter when I'm talking to you."

"You just need a little more confidence." It didn't look like Deb was taking that route of advice. So with a sigh, big brother Dexter won out against careful killer Dexter. "All right, I'll take a look. In the meantime, see if you can avoid LaGuerta and talk to Captain Matthews. He and dad were tight, maybe he'll put you on the case."

"You're making me smarter already, see?" It really wasn't her that was being smart here but hey, as long as she felt like she was.

"And keep the sex suit on when you talk to the captain. It'll help your cause." He said with a smile as he retreated out of the room, Deb playfully slamming the door behind him. Dexter put the interaction with his sister behind him and went to the empty pool, his fellow forensic scientist Vince Masuka and sorta friend Angel Batista were waiting by the covered body. At seeing Dexter approach Vince came over to him with a friendly if little perverted smile on his face. "That's a nice haircut Masuka." Dexter said in an attempt at avoiding what was to come.

"I saw your sister, _damn_ , looking hot." There it was, the thing he hoped to avoid. Masuka did his work, and he was pretty good at it. But, he acted like the perverted court fool of Miami Metro.

"Yeah, she should. It's hot as hell out here." Dexter said trying to turn what Vince said into something acceptable. Masuka just skimmed over the whole thing with only a slight grimace before his face went back to a blank grin, confused as to why Dexter was even here.

"So… why are you here?"

"It's a crime scene…?"

"Yeah… you do _blood spatter_."

"So?"

"So… there's no blood here." At that, everything around Dexter had stopped.

"What was that?"

"Yeah… there's no blood _in_ or _on_ or _near_ the body at all. It's the weirdest thing you ever saw." Well… that wasn't entirely true. The weirdest thing Dexter had ever seen was when he went down the rabbit hole on the General's spores. It was when they first met and the man turned into some kind of swamp monster. The fungal spores he released from his body made magic mushrooms look like tic tacs. "Hey Angel, show Dexter the body." Vince said as he turned around. The tarp covering the pieces was drawn upward, like a stage curtain revealing a perfectly choreographed cast of players. All Dexter could really think about was complete absence of blood.

" _No blood… no blood…_ " The words continued to repeat themselves over and over again as Dexter walked closer to to the body… " _Why hadn't I thought of that?_ " He looked down at the pieces of meat, some of them were wrapped up on shipping paper, others uncovered. "How does he do it? How does he get rid of the blood?" Dexter asked Angel, the man looked down at Dexter for a moment before answering.

"It's hard to say." He knew, he just didn't want to reach that conclusion so quickly in front of people. "Body is in good shape." He finished before walking to the other side of the body.

"This is…. unique," Dexter said trying to respond in some way, his mind still floating with the lack of blood.

"No shit, no prints either so… that's out." Masuka said as Dexter stood up, mistaking the blood spatter analyst's wonderment for nervousness.

" _I've never seen such clean, dry, neat-looking dead flesh. Wonderful_." Dexter thought as he tried to pace himself through this. "Very... clean." That was the only thing he could say about this that was safe. " _No blood… I can't think… I have to leave right now_." Dexter thought as he began his way out of the pool only to be followed by Angel.

"Listen…" The man said as he grabbed Dexter arm for a moment. "… we caught a break here. If there had been a single drop of blood in that girl… people'd start asking questions on its **color**." Angel warned carefully as he eyed the people around the pool.

"So she was… one of yours?" Dexter asked just as carefully as Angel let him go.

"Yes… well… no… I didn't Claim her. I got my own woman back home. But yeah… she was familia. And we take care of our own. So we need to find this bastard quickly. That means _you_ gotta get to work on sniffing him out." Angel finished with a pat on the back before returning to the body.

Angel Batista, Gamma of the General's Hive. Dexter never understood why they ranked themselves like a wolf pack, The General was the Alpha, his right hand man Abdalla his Beta, and Batista and his wife were both Gammas along with a few others whose identity Dexter didn't know. But Batista was the General's primary mole in the police, there were others but they weren't Evolved but lowly Infected. Like the girl that had been killed, people that just had a stable strain of Blacklight within their bodies rather than being Evolved where every single cell was Blacklight. Dexter often thought that Batista also acted as his handler for the General, Angel always acted so buddy buddy with Dexter, whether this was genuine or fake was a coin flip.

But the idea that this victim was Infected meant that the Hive would be getting involved quickly. It was Dexter almost killing one of their own that got him kidnapped and brought an inch from certain death, and he didn't even finish the deed. That was what likely saved his life, but this guy… he _did_ do it, and he stole the black blood of the Infected, adding insult upon the act. This meant war for the General and his Saints, and Dexter was likely to be caught up in it. The life of a serial killer was never easy.


	2. The Interveiw

The General knew what the latest victim of this newest serial killer was: it was the spearhead of Eden's attack, Eden, the shadowy figure that looked to create a new Garden of Paradise here on Earth using Blacklight. Years ago, he had introduced himself to the Hive by killing the Gamma of Dane Vogel, doing so by creating a parasite that took control of her body before killing her and snuffing her existence from the Hive Mind. Life for the Evolved since then had consisted of a cat and mouse game with the elusive bioterrorist. The man was dangerous, but had never taken another of their own like he had done with Vogel's Gamma and he had even done little in terms of harm towards any of Mercer's arms of power.

But there was always the threat, the threat that one of them could been taken and turned against the rest of the Hives. Not only that, but the mere fact there was someone out there that could pull off such a feat was a threat. Alex Mercer had made it a priority to collect as much information as they could on this man. All that the General knew of this effort was that over the last few years, global populations have been taking note of an increase in missing people. This could be attributed to many things, but many within the Hive thought this to be the work of Eden.

'Mr. Keambiroiro, they are ready for you." One of the station's staff said to him through a crack in his dressing room door. He was currently preparing for a TV interview concerning his growing charity organization and their latest move to acquire Angel of Mercy hospital. The run down and abandoned facility was currently state property, but the General was trying to change this despite getting much push back from the government. In particular, a movement led by Senior Assistant District Attorney Miguel Prado had been a lasting thorn in his side. Their main claim was that Keambiroiro would use the institution as means to launder money, gain access to drugs, and use the hospital for gaining new people to bring into the Saints of Samedi's fold, among other fears. Those fears were entirely correct, and the General planned to do this and more. For one, this hospital would become a new place of research and discovery for Blacklight.

The General had long wanted something that would place him above the rest of the Alphas. Something that proved just how much better he was than them, something tangible to point to and boast about. _This_ would be it. Right now the only place that did any Blacklight research for the Hives was the Church Compound, an underground bunker complex under Saint's Row of Stilwater, Michigan. But the General had been able to work out a deal with Mercer that if Keambiroiro was able to provide a good and safe facility, one controlled and run under his close watch, then Mercer would sign off on the idea of setting up a satellite facility to do their research.

So, the acquiring of the hospital was _very_ important to the General. And now the only thing keeping him from this was the investigations, the political backroom deals, and general bureaucratic bullshit. But he would beat back these obstacles, he had the will of the people on his side, and on the surface he had the moral high ground. He also had the money and the full support from his criminal empire on top of the vast sums of donations for his charity projects.

"Yes, thank you. I will be out in a minute." He said as he finished his inner thoughts. He didn't really need anything that a dressing room would provide, he liked his suit and rarely did he change his look. His viral nature meant that he never got dirty and would never actually need to change clothes as those same clothes were more or less a part of him. He looked back into the mirror, he knew that while this interview was meant to be focused on him and his plans for the city, he had no doubt that as a public figure he would be asked about the new topic of a new serial killer out on the streets. He grinned as he knew that he could take the next step against Eden who he was sure was behind this attack on his own. The General exited his dressing room and made his way to the interview stage, a simple yet well-made section of the local news station. The interviewer was the classic TV friendly blond woman, though thankfully for the General's nerves she was at the very least competent and not just a pretty face. He had no time for the stupid. The small audience in the room gave a cheer to his entrance and gave them a friendly smile and wave as he approached the two chairs in the center of the stage.

"Looks like we have some fans of yours here in the studio." The woman asked as he sat down across from her.

"Nothing unexpected, I have done many great things for Miami. Should I not have fans and admirers?" He asked as he once again smiled to the audience.

"Not at all. Men like yourself are perfectly entitled to admiration." She said before a small chuckling and then bringing up her interview cards. "So, Mr. Keambiroiro… you arrived in Miami six years ago and have since been often referred as a shining knight coming in to save many from poverty and homelessness. You have been responsible for several shelters and work programs that have gotten many off the streets and into prosperous lives. My first question, what drive a man to do such things?"

"Many years ago… I was far from the man I am now. I was in no way a good man, I was a very evil man. One who was responsible for many many atrocities, I have killed, I have tortured, I have caused much death and pain. But then one day… I looked on this village that I had raided the day before… and something shook me. Some how, in some way that village made me feel different than the many I had seen before. Maybe it was just one too many before my very soul broke from the weight of sin I committed. I vowed then and there to myself, that I would seek nothing else but try to atone for what I had done in my life. I know in my heart, that this is unlikely to ever happen. But I will at least try."

"That is some story, but it is hard to see you as anything but a saint to the people."

"Oh, I am a Saint. I simply haven't been one for very long in my life. But I try my best everyday to prove that to myself." Many people in the audience cheered their support for him. Crowd mentality had won many over to support the former war criminal. And it was well placed Infected, bribes and favors that had won over enough people to grant him an official pardon for his past crimes. Politically, the General was untouchable. That didn't mean that people hadn't stopped trying.

* * *

"Can you **believe** this shit show?!" Miguel Prado seethed as he watched the interview of the man he had come to hate with a burning passion. "This man admits to committing war crimes and people still cheer for him!" Despite the successes he had had in the last few years, Keambiroiro was a large stain on all of it.

"Brother clam down, Sylvia is outside and this isn't a side that she should see." Miguel's brother Ramon said as he tried to get his brother from throwing another one of tantrums. The sheriff Prado was often one to keep Miguel's nastier side back.

"You're right… you're right… fuck… this guy just gets under my skin." Miguel said as he sat back down on the couch in his office. "and he took our brother Ramon, all Oscar does now is preach how great this monster is."

"To be fair to our brother, he has only seen the Saint side of the man. He does run soup kitchens and homeless shelters, but _we_ know the truth. _We_ know that he is running drug rings and hookers out of those same places. _We_ know that he is really the General, _we_ know. Oscar doesn't." Ramon said, trying to keep his older brother from going off again.

"We're going to do it, pull the mask right off him." Miguel growled as he glared at Keambiroiro on the TV.

* * *

The General laughed with practiced charm at the bad joke the interviewer just made. He was a master at public appearances, or at least he was after consuming a woman that had trained all her adult life for an existence in front of the camera. The interviewer had been trying to delve into his personal life, looking for gossip and meaningless rumor.

"No, I have many friends and Lisa Martin is just another friend." He replied with deft grace while hiding his bile for said woman. A harpy, she had tried to latch onto him with the intent of finding a rich husband. Still, she knew people that were needed but not wanted in his Hive.

"Well I'm sure that there are many out there that are happy to hear that." The interviewer said with a small wink that caused many in the audience to react with a few whoops and whistles. The Infected in the audience remained quiet, unwilling to encourage a human to flirt with their Alpha.

"Now if we can stop with me, I would very much like to move on to what I was called here for: to talk about Angel of Mercy hospital. It is a cause that I feel should be discussed." The General said taking a serious tone. "I see a opportunity, an opportunity to set up a low-cost means for people to get medical care, a lifeline for those who have nothing. I do this as a personal mission to leave behind something that will last, be remembered, and thanked for, something that will continue to wipe away the sins of my past even after I die."

"A noble goal really, but some in law enforcement and the government are concerned that this will be used for less than noble means. Some within said places are claiming that you have ties to the Saints of Samedi, a local street gang, and this latest effort of seeming charity is just a smoke screen for criminal activity."

"I have dealt with people questioning my intent for years, since I came to this city. I was a suspect in a string of murders merely because a body was found in one of my properties under construction, and my sordid history was brought up by one of the detectives in Miami Metro." The General held back the smile, he knew that his words would travel back to Doakes. How he loved to make that man's life miserable, fitting payback for all those times back in Africa Doakes had done the same.

"So are you saying that you're questioning the people at Miami Metro, do you not believe they could remain unbiased if they were called to investigate a case that somehow connected to you?"

"Not at all. While I have some problems with a few, I firmly believe that there are many in the building that are good and honest, who seek to find truth and justice."

* * *

Dexter was currently… a non-sociopath would use the word "enjoying"…. date night with the woman he was seeing, Rita. They had met through his sister who was the officer that responded to Rita's domestic dispute call. Her husband had beaten and raped her, did drugs, the whole deadbeat husband package. The two started seeing each other at Debra's prodding and Dexter only went along with it because it helped his cover, plus Rita was good for him. Not in an emotional sense, but logical. She was understanding without trying to pry too deep into Dexter's life and due to her ex's forceful nature she wasn't interested in sex ever again, all of which suited him just fine.

"I can't understand why anyone would try to stop someone who is trying to do so much good in this world." Rita said as the two watched the interview with the General. Rita was one of his fans after he had helped a maid she knew from the hotel she worked at. The maid's brother had been held by Cuban traffickers and ransomed for more money, a ransom the General had paid. While it wasn't legal, it was the type of thing that everyone knew he did but never did anything about because it was seen as a part of his saintly image.

"He's too clean… people don't like other people that are too clean to them. Makes them think they're hiding something." Like the fact that they weren't even human. Dexter was cautious of Blacklight, he didn't like the idea that there was something that powerful. But his biggest problem with it was that it threw the Code of Harry out the window. They knew of him… the _real_ him, and they didn't care, in fact the Hives of Blacklight seemed to find his dark need for blood endearing, like a shared favorite sports team. Angel had once told him that Blacklight changes your head, makes it easy for you to see killing in a more logical light. Blacklight beings don't think about the individual people they kill, they pay it no mind. That was the most foreign idea of all to Dexter. He thought about those he killed so often, he kept their blood on slides so he could remember them forever.

* * *

"Yes… I have heard that a new madman now stalks the streets of our great city, a wretch that chops up women." The General said with a passion that was quite real. This killer had taken one of his Infected and he would not let this stand. "I do hope that the police find this horrendous killer and bring him to justice." They would never get the chance, the Hives would have their justice.

"I'm sure many are happy to hear that Miami's very own saint speaking against the latest serial killer. I'm sure it makes many feel better knowing that there are strong men out there standing up against monsters."

"Yes, truly the world is lacking in strong men. I am happy to give the people a hope to aspire toward." The General said with fake honesty, he cared little of what people thought beyond his need to keep up appearances. He could be feared, respected, or loved, it mattered little to him in the end so long as the result was absolute.

"Is there anything you might be doing to help the investigation. I'm sure a man of your status and power could help."

"My dear, I will course do what I can to help clean the streets of a terrible killer. But you misunderstand what I am capable of. I am no god, I cannot bring evidence to the killer's identity out of thin air. These things have a process in which Miami Metro will need to go through. I just hope that they can do so before another body shows up chopped in pieces." He lied once again, he would be doing far more than any normal man could. His Infected watched the streets, his Evolved were hunting down the man that had done this, he had his gang knocking down doors and performing various not so legal searches. He would find this fool, it was only a matter of time.

* * *

Brian Moser, brother to Dexter Morgan, watched the General's interview with a raised eyebrow. He wasn't impressed at all. He saw through the fake smiles, the uplifting words, the friendly postures. They were the same behaviors he himself had practiced so he could disguise his own monstrous nature, which meant he could tell that half of what the man said was straight-up lies or thinly-veiled misleading truths.

"So this is the man that I'm supposed to destroy?" Brian asked his patron. He didn't have much idea of just what it was… but it had promised safety from the monsters in a world that was bigger than he realized.

"Yes… you will do what you do best. How you go about it is up to you, but I need him _gone_. He also must not be allowed to take that hospital… his plans would complicate our needs far too much." The voice came from a slithering… thing… that was roaming the floor of Brian's apartment. "Find others to help you, tell them that they can have whatever they desire and they will have it. Just as I have given you the tools to take what you want."

"Sure… you send some more of your little helpers and I can find some people who'll put them to good use. " Brian said as he stood up and walked over to his kitchen, above the cabinets were several small gnome like creatures with oily black skin and dead unblinking eyes. Brian had found the things to be creepy at first, even more so considering how utterly quiet they were, but he had gotten used to them. As the serial killer looked through his fridge there was a few sounds of a rumbling in the industrial freezer he had installed in his apartment. "And could you tell that one to be a little more subtle?" Brian complained as he popped the cap of his beer on the counter.

"Leraje-34… **calm yourself**." The voice said and the rumbling sounds ceased. "You must forgive the beast… the Leraje species is not meant for city life." The voice said as the creature that slithered around the floor pulled itself up into view by using one of Brian's dining chairs for support. It was a twisting serpentine monster with the same greasy pitch black skin and dead eyes that all the things Brian's patron sent him had. Two rows of earlike appendages lined the back of its long head, and six lifeless eyes tracked Brian as he moved back to the couch to continue to watch the interview. Below the strange eyes were two mouths, one large and looking much like a angler fish while the one above was a lipless mockery of a human's.

"And yet you sent it to a populated city, not very smart of you if you ask any sane person."

"People rarely stay sane around my person." The voice said matter-of-factly, the human teeth on the creature barely moving to form the words yet the voice was perfectly clear to Brian's ears. "If you find more people you think are good company to yourself, contact me and I will send a package containing a set amount of Beleth and Valefor. You may be trusted with a Leraje, but no one else."

"No one else is crazy enough to let one of those things into their home." Brian nodded to his freezer.

"You know your task… you know your desire… and you know that both need to happen for the other to come true." The voice finished before the monster carrying Brain's patron's voice slithered off his chair and then moved to the nearby wall, liquefying and wriggling through the cracks as it vanished through the surface.

" _That_ is never not creepy." Brian said before taking a long sip and returning his attention to the TV. "My dear little brother… things are going to be very interesting for us."

* * *

The General was happy that this interview was finished and he could wait and see how the other players would react. He knew that his political slug fighting partner Miguel Prado would not be taking the whole thing well. The General knew that the man had an incredibly short fuse, and few things were able to halt the fallout that came. One might wonder how did the General know these things, and the answer was because his third Gamma was Miguel's little brother Oscar.

The General had at first only Evolved the man for that connection, something that had been frowned upon by the other Alphas. But Oscar had proven that the Prado family was filled with talent, talent and anger… but talent nonetheless. Oscar's was logistics. While his brothers were ruthless in pursuing justice, the young man was a iron-fisted planner and negotiator, potential that was squandered in his former job as a coach at the local youth center. The youngest Prado brother was now handling much of the business side of the General's charities and was pulling his own weight in the Hives.

"Diver, take me home." The General said as he entered his limo, the sound of reporters asking him questions falling silent as he shut the door behind him. They had started hounding him the second he had left the protection of the studio building, he had just spent a two hours answering questions and yet they wanted more. "Is the connection to Abdalla secure?" The General asked the two men in the car with him, both Infected and loyal members of the Saints of Samedi.

"Yes General, he awaits your call." One of them said before setting up the call between the limo and the Beta who was currently on the island of Cuba

"Abdalla… are you in position?" The General asked as he lit his cigar.

"Yes General, I had no issue finding the smuggler's base of operations. I have already taken out their pathetic outer defenses, and am awaiting the order to release the Horror upon the fools that dared to insult you, my General."

"Very good my friend, see to it that you make sure to recapture the Horror. The Supreme Alpha is expected in the coming months. This little outing will only prove that we can handle the Constructs properly." The General said a little too smugly for his own good. He curbed his emotions before certain people picked up on them and saw it as an excuse to play with the Hive Mind and the power it held over those that were a part of it.

"If I may ask General, how did the interview go? I apologize as I was unable to view it due to my mission."

"It went well, not all of it was needed but I expected that. Much of it was useless gossip and continued efforts to turn me into some celebrity. That is not what I set out to do, for I am an honorable knight trying to save Miami. Or at least on the surface I am." The General chuckled to himself as he enjoyed the fact many people he loathed hated him for that image he had set up for himself. "But we also spoke of my efforts to gain the Angel of Mercy hospital, hopefully it will gain us support, or at the very least irritate enough of our opponents into making a mistake."

"They are all just toys for your enjoyment General, they do not know that all it would take is a drop from a vial and they would bow to you. They only do not because you enjoy the game, even considering the fact they have been poor players."

"Yes, I _have_ found the competition lacking. Prado does his best but I might have over played by taking in young Oscar. Having his brother… it makes it too easy, and now all that is left for me on the criminal front is a few hold outs in the street gangs and the three cartels that have not bent the knee as it were." The General sighed before taking another drag. "Finish your mission Abdalla and return home. We have a cockroach that needs to be squashed." The General growled as murder bled through his voice.

* * *

"Of course General, as soon as possible." Abdalla said as before he hung up his burner phone and crushed it in his hand. He then turned to the Blacklight pod that he had set next to him. The outside of it was a black and red shell, much like an insect exoskeleton, with a single oval opening showing the inner tissue and fluid sack that held its occupant. The inner tissue and muscle throbbed and occasionally secreted a bit of foul smelling ooze that served to form a protective membrane from the elements. Seeing as it was currently raining that function was needed. "Wakey wakey… monster man" Abdalla said as he hit the back of the pod, prompting a few gargled sounds as nutrient fluids began moving out of the main cavity and into the three external sacks. Then translucent membrane that separated the outside world from the main pod sack peeled itself back as the fluid in it was sucked away. The next sound that was heard was a deafening screech and then a thud as the occupant of the pod fell out onto the sandy beach.

The Blacklight Horror flailed about, not enjoying being set free from its slumber. Abdalla thought it had to be like being birthed, the pod was much like a womb in many regards and the Beta had been told by several of the Legionary Constructs that it was a very displeasing thing to be expelled from the pod. They said that you get used to not needing to do anything but sleep and dream, and to be taken so suddenly from that is a shocking and unwanted thing. Legionaries were much more sentient, though not nearly as the average human, than Horrors so the effect Abdalla assumed had to be worse on the Horrors.

The Horror eventually finished its tantrum and stood up, lurching forward in the reverse of the normal human means of doing so. It was… man-shaped in that it had two legs, two arms… and a head, even though it had eight eyes, no nose, and its mouth was huge and dipped down to the upper chest as a great hole with small sharp teeth around the edge. It skin was sickly gray with many intertwining bone growths forming a crude natural armor. Its arms were twice the length of its whole body, a detail made even more scary by the fact it stood with a large hunch to its spine. The Horror than took a step toward Abdalla, snarling as it got ready to attack. Horrors were by nature feral at best.

" **Down**." Abdalla ordered firmly as he focused all his might in the Hive Mind on the Construct. The Horror only response was to freeze in place, swaying back and forth as if in a trance. Abdalla didn't smile or act on the successful temporary taming of the beast. He calmly led the Horror down the beach and towards the abandoned military base that now served the scum that had insulted his Alpha. They were in a state of emergency, the cargo that they had been contracted to smuggle for the General had been taken and all of their boats and vehicles had been sabotaged. Abdalla gave the mental order to the Horror that the base was to be its hunting ground and let it go from his control. He jumped high in the air and glided back to a safe distance from the Horror before watching it take off toward the base. The Construct moved in a very odd manner, using its long arms as a means to sling itself forward until it reached the walls of the base. Abdalla switched it his viral vision and watched the mass of Blacklight enter the base, the Horrors were natural hunters from the shadows, able to hide themselves easily in any setting, urban to natural. He was keeping a tight watch on the Construct, as he had been ordered, when the first of many terrified screams reached his ears. "If they were smart… they'd take their own lives. Better than being eaten alive."

* * *

Reviews

helkil - I'm a dude. I'm not sure what Rita will be. Thanks for showing up.

ArchangleMV - You should, it's pretty good.

Zane Tribal Tyne Alexandros - ... okay... thank you.

Reads too much - no. He keeps that very close to himself. they and Life Fibers will not be making any appernces in the spin offs. Maybe mentions.

Rmarcano321 - i think that's explained in this chapter but mostly becuase i like Angel.

Xalimech - thank you.


	3. Only Mondays through Thursdays

Angel Batista was a man with needs, and this _bastardo psico_ was cutting into them. The Evolved Gamma stood over the latest victim of the newest serial killer in Miami. Just like before, no blood and chopped up into pieces with several of them wrapped in brown paper. Nuts _and_ stupid, that was what Angel thought of this. What really made his black blood boil was that this was another one of the Infected, even after the General had ordered that all Infected that worked as hookers not ply their trade until they found this man. They all worked for pimps that answered to the General, and should have been compensated out of the General's own pocket during these trying times.

It was another example of why Angel found the General to be good man despite his position as the biggest criminal kingpin in the city he called home. But Angel knew, he knew that every time the Saints of Samedi took over a neighborhood things got better for the people who lived there. The drugs that they pushed harder than others were cleaner and resulted in less broken families and death, the working girls that they solicited were taken care of, and they kept the streets safer than the cops did. It had taken a while for Angel to admit it to himself, but the Saints of Samedi were more often than not the good guys and their boss was the one responsible for it. That wasn't even taking into account all the other good things the General did with his more public affairs.

So now Angel didn't give two seconds to the notion that he was in the wrong for being a rat to his fellow cops. Many on the force were good people, some not so much, but he knew that the General wanted the same thing that they wanted… a city that was better and safer. He was just on a team that went about it in a different way. Plus, there was that darker, more selfish corner in Angel's mind that told him that it was because of the General that his marriage was still going so very strong.

Angel's pride stopped him from admitting it, even to this day, but when he looked back on his marriage prior to becoming an Evolved, he and his wife were living a life devoid of passion. There was a spark in the beginning but that was just stupid young love that barely meant anything. The years had gone on and on, they mostly stayed with each other out of stubbornness and commitment to the idea of married life, but Angel knew now… he would have done _something_ to screw it all up. All it would have taken was a night when he came home a little too drunk, an argument that got a little too heated, a moment of weakness with another woman, and the last thread holding them together would have snapped. But all of that was avoided, The General saw potential in him and gave him a chance at becoming something better. He even gave Nina the same offer, allowing the husband and wife to connect on a level not humanly possible. Angel was not aware that the General had only done so because he wanted a Natural of his own in his Hive, nor was he aware that the Batistas had been carefully selected to do so, but even if he did know he wouldn't care. His marriage was better than ever before, he and Nina were Mated in the Hive Mind, and for the first time in his life his work and home lives were perfect. Then Auri came, Angel's precious little girl, and he was thrilled to discover that his world could grow even brighter. He was a bit shocked when Nina told him she was pregnant, mostly because he had assumed that as Evolved they couldn't have kids, but he was overjoyed at the news.

Recently, however, Angel had begun to worry for his daughter's life. The Supreme Alpha of Blacklight, Alex Mercer, had apparently been considering addressing the issue of Naturals, beings born from two Mated Evolved. The rumored solutions among the Hive ranged from all Naturals being taken from their parents and raised in a specially-built compound to Mercer ordering all Naturals to be Consumed and Mating outlawed. The General had assured Angel and Nina that it would never come to that. For one thing, Alex was the godfather of the first Natural, Julius Gat, and considering the Supreme Alpha's legendary value of family, that fact seemed to keep them calm. But Angel still worried about his baby girl like any father would. He had heard that the Saints Brand would be coming to Miami for some sort of event and Avarice Mercy, Alex Mercer's public identity, would be headlining it. So the news that Alex Mercer would be coming to Miami… certainly made Angel nervous as to what would happen to Auri.

The Evolved detective snapped out of his troubled thoughts at the sight of Dexter Morgan walking over from the nearby party to Angel's crime scene. That was odd, given that said Blood Spatter Analyst hadn't been called. Angel honestly liked Dexter, he knew that much of the man's personality was an act, but how long does a person play a role before they become it? That is what he thought about Dexter, that the mask was just as real as what was under it. The secret serial killer part of his friend was very much like his Alpha, doing good with the methods they had available. Dexter only went after other killers, and Angel knew how far he went each time to prove that, so he deserved a bit of credit. Plus… he knew that something bad must have happened to the man to make him what he was, something really bad. Angel could guiltlessly kill a person thanks to Blacklight changing his brain chemistry, but Dexter was old-fashioned, home-grown human.

"Son of a whore…" Angel said as Dexter approached the deceased victim with wide eyes. To be honest, the Gamma found it unsettling the way he stared at scenes of carnage like a man hypnotized.

"Who?" Dexter said, not taking his gaze off the chopped-up body.

"Talking about this _Hijo De Yegua_. This asshole killer, this savage who makes us work on a Friday night." That was third on Angel's list of reasons to hate this man: one… he killed family, two… he might be connected to the one man that could kill Auri, and three… he took time away from date night with Nina.

"Only Mondays through Thursdays, that's what I always say." Dexter said, not really meaning it. But there were people around and he needed to maintain the mask for them. He knew Angel would follow along.

"Of course, be reasonable. Who wants to work on a Friday night? I got my needs." Angel said with a slightly feral grin at the thought of his woman back home. Dexter looked unfazed by it and just ignored his colleague. "So… what are you doing here?" Angel asked, as he was confused on just how did Dexter found his way to the scene without being called.

"I was in the neighborhood, I'm on a date." Dexter admitted, absentmindedly pointing back to the party with his thumb.

"A date… nice." That was what Angel wanted to be doing right now instead of looking over the body of someone that used to be family.

"Same guy, same pattern, same…. target?" Dexter asked carefully.

"Right on all three unfortunately." Angel growled. "Bone dry, no blood again." Black or otherwise, it was insulting that this maniac was stealing the very symbol of the Infected. "There are some small differences in the cuts this time… down here…" Angel said as he bent down to the foot. "Hand saw… rough… then up to here." Angel pointed the ankle. "Sawblade… but what is really interesting is up here." Angel moved up to the last cut. "This… can't be made with a manufactured blade." Angel leaned in close so only Dexter could hear. "This guy _definitely_ has access to Blacklight, only a Viral blade could make this clean of a cut." Angel said before moving back. "Nothing else interesting about this body other than the head is missing."

"What?"

"The head, can't find it anywhere. The killer kept it… why, I have no idea." It was just another insult that needed to be paid for.

* * *

Dexter was looking over the file of his next target, one Paul Crosby. It was another case of a monster with a respectable and wholesome disguise, only this monster took that a little too far.

Six years ago, he was suspected of killing his neighbor. The two were often seen arguing over the neighbor's revolving door of women. Apparently Paul was a bit uptight and took the concept of traditional family values very seriously. But when the officers couldn't find any physical evidence to link Mr. Crosby to the death of his neighbor, they let him go. Then, over the following years, it appeared that Paul began a one man's crusade against swingers and single people. Dexter had found case of a few other people that had disappeared later to be found dead, and all these people shared a common theme… they attended a small singles club nearby Paul Crosby's home.

"Hey Dex…" Dexter looked up and saw one of the rank and file cops come over to his work station. He quality closed out the file on his computer and looked up expectedly. "… package for you, some guy just left it on the front desk." The cop said before dropping the small box in his hand onto Dexter's desk and walking away. Dexter looked at the seemingly-innocuous package with unease.

" _Could this be from my friendly neighborhood hive mind… can't really think of anyone else_." He thought as he began to reach for the box but the second that he started to he stopped cold. The box had _nudged_ itself. Dexter knew right then and there that this wasn't a normal package and that his small hopes that it was just a hamster inside weren't true. So he grabbed it, ignoring the feeling of the rattling from inside as he tracked Angel to the breakroom.

"Amigo, _¿cómo estás hoy?_ " Angel asked as the secret serial killer approached him. But one look of the man's face told him that something was wrong. "Something the matter?"

"This." Dexter said as he handed the box over, at which point it started shaking violently. Both men's eyes widened and they rushed for the nearest restroom, Angel mentally commanding the nearest Infected cop to watch and possibly intercept anyone that might walk in on them. Angel threw the box to the floor after checking to see that they were alone before shifting his arm into its Bio-claw form. Dexter would never get used to seeing such a thing, but was too concerned with the clear threat.

"Come on you little _parásito…_ quit wasting our time." Angel growled and the thing in the box seemed to respond as it suddenly ripped itself to pieces. What remained was a small body of oily back skin with six legs covered in thorny talons. The legs seemed to be articulated in such a way that they could bend in any direction it needed… or didn't need given the way it twitched and spasmed. On the top of the body was a single lidless eye and if they could see it a matching one was on the bottom as well. It lacked any form of clear mouth until one saw that there was one on the end of each leg. "The fuck is…" Angel muttered before an agonizing screech in the Hive Mind ripped its way through his head, sending him reeling in pain.

The creature on the floor sprang upwards and aimed itself for the detective's head. Dexter knew that it intended to do to his friend's skull what it did to the box. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the nearby fire extinguisher and bashed the little monster out of the air and away from Angel. He hastily started spraying its contents at the parasite until it finally fell still. For all his genius, Eden hadn't planned for a safety tool that could suffocate and freeze things. Dexter looked at the frost-covered creature for a second before looking to Angel who was breathing raggedly as he regained control over his senses.

"Hey Angel… you okay?" Dexter asked, his voice a little weak from the excitement. Any normal man would be having a mental breakdown, but Dexter was not a normal man. Even so, he was a little shaken by the fight for his life, no matter how small.

"Yeah…" Angel confirmed as he squeezed the bridge of his nose. "… thanks for that by the way. Might have just saved my life." He tried to brush off the assault with bravado, but he truly meant what he said. He then looked to the still-immobile creature. "Well… we can't deny it anymore… Eden is in Miami." Angel sighed before he commanded an Infected cop to bring them a sturdy box to transport the little monster out of the station.

"Eden?" Dexter asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Fucker that has all of Blacklight scared… like our own personal boogeyman." Angel grunted and opened the door to take the requested box. Grabbing a dozen paper towels from the dispenser next to the sink, Angel was careful to get the creature into the box without actually touching it. "There… now maybe we can start getting a idea on what the guy… FUCK!" Angel yelled, dropping the box as it started melting in his hands. " _¡Cabrón nos hace correr como pollos con nuestras cabezas cortadas con esta mierda!_ " Angel cursed as he and Dexter watched the box and the monster inside melt from the released acid in the monster's body.

"What exactly are we going to do about the floor?" Dexter asked as he noted the bathroom tiles starting to sizzle and dissolve.

"Agh… the Hive will handle it. I'm grateful for what you did, Dex, but you need to get out of here. I'll handle the shitshow." Angel said with a small pat on his friend's back as he began telepathically coordinating the effort to cover this whole mess up. Dexter was about to leave the restroom but then Angel stopped him. "Before I forget… who sent this fucker to you?"

"Don't know… it was just left for me at the front desk." Dexter said, and Angel stared at him for a moment before nodding for him to go. He did as asked, wanting nothing more than to return to his plans for Mr. Crosby. His Dark Passenger still needed to be sated after all, and a small brush with death and strangeness wasn't going to quiet it.

* * *

The General stepped out of his limo and took a drag from his Cuban cigar as he looked at the largest of his homeless shelters. The Saint Christopher House had been the second shelter he opened, and so far it was the main one to hold the interest of the Department of Justice. The General glanced back to the unassuming van that held the team assigned to watch the building. Unfortunately all of them were uninfected, but that was part of the strategy. The General limited himself in how many he would Infect or else the game would become too easy.

The General made his way past the front door, people happily recognizing him and giving all sorts of pleasantries. He gave back the appropriate responses but didn't bother to truly listen. He soon moved past all those he didn't care to even remember and enter into the back of the building. There was the support staff and facilities for the homeless shelter, all of whom he ignored. He was focused on the primary office of the building where his Gamma was currently located.

"Oscar, we have… what are you doing?" The General asked, his voice a little disappointed at the sight of his Gamma currently in the process of receiving a blowjob from one of his claimed Infected.

"Oh, hey there boss man. Come on in… no need to knock or shit." Oscar said not at all flinching at being caught. Since the General had caught him in worse situations and he wasn't about to stop his enjoyment because his Alpha was in the room.

"Cease this at once, we have things to discuss." Keambiroiro grumbled, turning his back to his Gamma and the Infected before taking a drag from his cigar. There was the sound of a small grunt of pleasure and then and only then did the Infected leave. "You could at least try to give me courtesy." The General sighed before turning back to face his Gamma. His subordinate was capable when he felt the situation called for it, but every other moment he was the archetypal free-spirited youngest brother.

"I could… but I probably won't. Don't need to treat you like a king to make you money and keep my brother off your back." Oscar said slightly spinning in his office chair. "Speaking of which… he's up for reelection… you thinkin' about that?"

"That is indeed what I have come to speak about. Despite our mutual feud with each other he is still a very popular candidate. He is likely to win even if have all of my Infected vote the other party while pulling all the social strings they can." The General said as he paced back and forth. "I can't publicly endorse anyone because that would open myself to political attacks and labeling. I have worked hard to appear as omnibenevolent as possible, all for the sake of making as few enemies as I could."

"But now you need someone to beat out my brother because he's an annoying prick that won't stop yapping and yapping." Oscar said, knowing his brother and his opinion on his boss.

"Yes… you need to handle your brother. I don't care how it's done, but the Angel of Mercy deal needs to go through and it needs to conclude soon. Mercer is coming and _we_ need to show _our_ worth." The General ordered with emphasis before walking out of the office and slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Dexter sat at a picnic table eating a small lunch with his sister. She was going on about how LaGuerta was being unfair to her by keeping her in Vice. Her brother was on another world thinking about those bloodless bodies, pieces delicately cut with blades that were not made by man or nature. He just couldn't get it out of his head.

"Dex! Earth to Dex." Debra said as she tapped her brother's forehead while he looked off with an expression of total absence in his eyes. "You fuckin' here?"

"What… sorry Deb, just... some things with Rita." Dexter mumbled, it was normal for him to use his girlfriend as the reason for his distraction when it was something… dark related.

"Well I'm talking about my future here. I need to show everyone that I'm more useful than just being on some corner looking for Jons." Deb grunted as she angrily picked at her food. "You gotta give me some kind of tip or something… come on, use that big brain of yours."

"Eh, this might be something you should just…" Dexter took one look at his sister's face and knew that wasn't going to get him anywhere. "… alright, just tell me what it is that got you thinking that you might have something." He said leaning back while focusing on his sister to avoid the risk of facing her wrath.

"Tell me what you know about cell crystallization, I heard the coroner talk about the dead bodies from that killer. The one that chops up the girls into pieces." Deb said, not caring that a few people nearby glared at her for talking about something that could ruin their meal.

"You saw something… come on, spill it." Dexter said now fully interested given that Debra might have noticed something that he and the Hives missed.

"Well… I got there pretty early… and I saw that the bodies were cold… like meat-packing fresh-out-the-freezer cold." That got it… Dexter could now see exactly how it all happened.

" _A refrigerated truck_." Dexter thought quietly. " _That's how he's doing it… it's brilliant. Keeps the victim cold and acts as a mobile kill room_." He glanced up at Debra, she needed to be the one to tell the cops but at the same time it needed to be _after_ he told the Hive. Last thing he wanted was for them to shift their attention onto her. If it got in the minds of the Hive that Debra was a smart choice for a new member… no… he couldn't let that happen. "You might be on something… but first… nature calls." Dexter said rapidly as he stood up. Deb found his sudden absence strange but then again Dexter was strange. He left and went to the restroom, then after checking that he was alone he called Angel. He informed the Evolved about the theory, and Angel's reaction mirrored his own a few minutes prior, cursing himself for not seeing it before. Angel also was agreeable on letting Deb take the credit for the idea. Dexter smiled as he hung up on the Gamma, the Hives might think that they were the smartest ones in the room but they could be played like anyone else.

* * *

James Doakes was watching the man in this city that had to be the cause of so much of its suffering. At least half of all organized crime in the Miami metropolitan area was handled by the Saints of Samedi. All other gangs and crime syndicates had either folded or turned tail and run, leaving a power vacuum that was slowly being filled by all sorts of scum that felt they could take on the new criminal superpower.

And the General as the man responsible for it all. He came in one day and instantly spread his claws. Slowly they had closed in and now they would be impossible to pry open unless the man at the top was taken down or out. Doakes still believed in the idea of justice and the right way of doing things. But after years of nothing happening… that ideal was beginning to grate on him.

He watched as the crime boss exited from one of his fronts, not caring if it _did_ help homeless people. It was still just a front for all the drugs and whores and who knew what else that the Saints of Samedi were pushing. He chased the General back in Africa and he knew the tactics the man loved to use, pretend he was the savior before turning around and robbing his victims blind then putting a bullet in their head for their trouble. The man was and would always be a locust in human form. Doakes was about to follow the limo carrying his target before he stopped… _everything_ stopped. He couldn't move his body!

" _Can't… move! What the hell is-"_

"Ah… nice car you have here." He heard someone say as they opened the door and entered. His new passenger sat beside him, silently holding him at his mercy for a moment. "We have a mutual foe… I wanted to begin our little pow-wow by letting you know that. Now… I'm not what you would normally think of in a partner… but I think we could make it work." Doakes couldn't turn his head, he couldn't see who it was, he couldn't even move his eyeballs to look in the nearby mirror. "You can't move because I have a little friend that won't let you." The man casually said. Desperate for information, Doakes' strained ears picked up the sound of a wrapper being opened, then the small sounds of the man sucking on a small kind of... whatever he just unwrapped. "That man… the man you hate so much… he's not normal. If you've been thinking about killing him yourself, taking the law into your own hands… wouldn't work."

" _And why the fuck not_?!" Doakes screamed in his mind, unable to vocalize his rage.

"You ever hear of the Blacklight virus… of course you have. Everyone heard of the thing that destroyed New York several years ago. Most horrifying thing anyone before that time could think of… real mutant monsters running around killing and laying waste to the greatest city humanity ever made, stuff of blockbuster disaster movies. By now it's been… gosh, I've barely kept track myself. But it's been long enough that people have nearly grown accustomed to the idea of zombies and mutant monsters. It's history, it was defeated, beaten, crushed, all that by humanity, yip-pee for us. We won and Blacklight and the undead were beaten and now they don't seem so scary any more. We live in a post-zombie apocalypse world."

" _Get to the fucking point motherfucker or so help me_ …"

"But the thing is… Blacklight wasn't beaten… it just grew smarter. It decided that it was better to live in the shadows, not so publicly as it did in New York. Your friend you love stalking so much is one of those shadows, someone more than human… evolved beyond what is normal. So yeah, if you were to try and kill him because of your little hangups you would fail. Even if you place the barrel of your gun to his head and pulled the trigger… you'd be sushi a few seconds later. *Shwip!*. You live by his amusement… you live because your efforts are a joke to him… you live because you are less than nothing to him. Lucky for you, that's where you can actually kill him. It is where we don't look… or better yet… where we look but don't care to notice that the greatest weakness is. I've learned that particular lesson very well" At that the car door opened again. "I'd avoid talking about what we've discussed… you never know which _shadows_ are a little darker than others." The car door slammed shut, and after five minutes of dead silence Doakes was suddenly able to move again. He felt like his limbs were filled with sand, but he frantically struggled out of his car and looked for any clue of the person that got the drop on him. He found nothing.

"Motherfucker… what the fuck was that?" Doakes cursed under his breath before slamming his hand on the top of his car in frustration.

* * *

Dexter was at the moment finishing his dismembering of Paul Crosby. It hadn't taken long at all for the man to confess his crimes, rambling about how he believed himself to be wholly right in his purpose. Dexter had decided that his next target would _not_ be of a religious disposition. It was getting tiring. But now with his dark passion handled he felt a bit more content with everything. That was the goal of all of this… to feel a little closer to that normal that everyone else had for themselves.

"So this is the famous Dexter." Said serial killer looked up shocked to see someone come into Paul Crosby's apartment. A young man with slicked-back hair casually waded his way through the plastic wrap nest that Dexter had made for himself. "Interesting… I prefer to Consume them and be done with it… but to each his own."

"Who are you… from the Hives right?" Dexter asked as they were the only ones that would ever be able to find him. "I thought the General and I had a deal… I stay away from his and we stay away from each other." He said lowly, clenching the handle of the butcher's knife in his grasp even though it was about as pointless a weapon as a rubber duck against a Viral.

"Yup… Oscar Prado. Gamma in the General's Hive. You see… I have this brother. He's annoying… but I can't kill him because… Family is Sacred… can't change or bend that."

"So you want me to kill him… I can't. I have my own Code I follow." Dexter said firmly, he unwilling as ever to kill innocent people. Not for himself and not for the Hives. Even if they threatened him to the end he would stand firm to the Code of Harry.

"Nope. I can't kill him in any capacity. Hiring you or even hinting at it is a big no-no. What I want you to do is kill me." Oscar said chuckling a bit at Dexter's blank look. "Help me fake my death, and then bond with my brother over it somehow… we can figure out the little details later." He said so casually that it concerned Dexter… not in a way that a normal person would be concerned, more like he was worried that the youngest Prado wasn't taking this serious enough and forgetting that the man he was talking to _didn't_ have the luxury of immortality.

"You would be fine with leaving your life behind… you job, friends, family?" Dexter asked as Oscar circled the remains of Paul Crosby, his eyes raking over the meat like it was a fine steak. Dexter was truly disturbed by how Evolved regarded human meat as a resource like wood or oil to be used up.

"My **job** is working for my Alpha… only thing I would have to do is change my name and face to keep doing it. My friends are already in on whatever plan I make, those that are uninfected I can live without. And my Family… nearly the same thing. Miguel is an ass that hates my Alpha with a passion… Ramon I will miss but I'm sure that he might one day wise up and join the Hives. But Miguel is a problem… we need to distract him… my death and maybe you could do that."

"I could understand the former, death in family is… tragic." Dexter was completely powerless here and he hated it. He hated that he had no means to counter-argue the Hive and that he had no bargaining power because they only saw him as a useful tool. And tools couldn't talk back.

"But the latter is you befriending my brother, you and him will meet in some fashion. Got it! You and him meet at my killer's house. We set up my death in some drug dealer's place, they take the rap for my death my brother will want to take revenge, but you kill the dealer and he finds out. You both bond over the murder."

"Seems like a bit of a long shot." Dexter said not finding that to be a good idea at all. How did a person come up with an idea like that?

"No man it will totally work, trust me. If there's anybody that knows my brother, it's me." Oscar's tone turned serious.

"Growing up, he'd drop his guard from time to time, and let's just say what I saw underneath wasn't campaign trail material. Perks of being the youngest, people treat you like you can't understand anything around you." He explained as he moved over to the tools of Dexter's trade. "And if you do this for me… I talk to the General about getting you your own Apple of Evolution." He said as he traced the edge of the saw. Dexter raised an eyebrow at that, was that what it sounded like, was it something he even wanted? He never thought about joining the Hives despite the clear benefits. It felt wrong to Dexter, wrong in some instinctive unexplained way.

"Give me some time to think about it." Dexter trying to avoid telling the Hives that he was leaning towards saying no to the proverbial offer one can't refuse. Oscar looked at Dexter for a moment trying to figure the serial killer out, the problem the Evolved had with Dexter was that he didn't have the tells normal people had. They could never get a correct read on him.

"Sure… see you then. You can just go… I'll handle cleanup for you." Oscar said and stepped back towards the body. Dexter nodded and quickly exited the apartment. He began driving back to Rita's house as he had gotten a call from her during his ritual of blood.

Then, the oddest thing happened. As he was driving… a massive refrigerated truck passed him. Dexter couldn't believe that it was possible… then he remembered the box delivered to him at the station. This was no coincidence. If Dexter could feel fear he would second guess the choice to follow the truck. But he didn't. He needed to understand so many things about this, and he may be dead on the inside but he was still curious. As he drove, mind in a daze, eventually the truck turned around, the high beams blinding his eyes, and the next thing he knew his windshield was cracked as a head tumbled onto his car hood.

* * *

The General could not believe how easy it was. An ice truck, that was such a simple thing that he had to shoot himself in the head as self-punishment to his own ignorance. That had to be a lower point for him, that he couldn't have figured out that the man was using such an obvious means to transport his victims.

"General, the cargo is set to be shipped to New York." Abdulla said as he handed his boss a manifest of the cargo. The two of them were standing effortlessly on the top of a massive shipyard crane unperturbed by the wind around them. It was a strange thing for the Alphas of the Hives, they all agreed that they found themselves at peace when standing high in the air with winds whipping around them.

"Very good my friend, and the bribes?"

"Made and accepted."

"Threats?"

"Made and listened to."

"Good… soon our second homeland will once again be under Blacklight's control. We have done our part of Mercer's plan. Now we will return to our own." The General said before taking a drag from his cigar. "This killer… he sends a threat to a person of my interest in the form of some creature and then a severed head into the car of that same man. He has a fixation on Dexter Morgan and I want to know why."

"I have the Infected watching and looking for trucks matching the description that Mr. Morgan gave. The creature we have no information about, but through Angel's word we have at least more data on the capabilities of Eden."

"Yes… that he is able to paralyze us through our Hive Mind Link. Troubling news. All the more reason for us to expand our research capability as soon as possible." The General said, knowing that he needed to turn this to his advantage. The question was, how?

* * *

Dexter walked through the door of his apartment, after answering all the questions the cops and his boss had for him he was finally let go. He was surprised that the Hive didn't do the same. Most likely because they were happy to listen in on the police questioning.

"Hello Dexter." At that Dexter thought that maybe the Hive did send someone to question him. "Not your little friends… in the freezer." The voice said slightly amused. Dexter frowned and knew that this was exactly what he thought it was. He rushed over to the freezer and opened it. Inside, standing upright, were the chopped-up pieces of a Barbie doll held together by thick oily tissue. The doll's head nocked to the side and looked right at him. "Hello Dexter… this wasn't the way I wanted to first meet but… I couldn't pass it up."

"You're the man in the ice truck… the one that's killing and who's making the Hive all worried. Eden." Dexter said in the monotone he reserved for his victims.

" **No…** no, I am _not_ Eden. He's… She's… its basically my patron. They are the one that's going to keep the Hives off my back, and in exchange I have to do a bit of work for them. But if I do that… I can have you all to myself." The voice echoed off the inside of the freezer, constantly changing in tone and mannerism.

"Why me?" Dexter asked as he tried to move a bit to side to side and the doll's face followed.

"That… is the mystery isn't it? Why you… well, I'll tell you Dexter… it's a good secret that's not really a secret. But it is… when it shouldn't be… because **someone** made it so." There was anger… _that_ couldn't be hidden in the shifting vocal tones. He was clearly angry at something that involved this secret. "But that's your job to discover. I will push and prod you into figuring it out for yourself. But I do have a deadline before I have to take things into my own hands. And trust me… you won't like it when I have to do that." At that, the black tissue melted down and away, slinking out of the freezer and then past Dexter and out of the apartment. He looked back to the fallen doll parts… his lips turning into a smile. There was no threat from this stranger… this was a game. A risky game with a threat of failure, but the best games had such things. Dexter now had a playmate… one all his own.

* * *

Author's notes

Sorry for the late update. I just got my PS4 and... Persona 5... and Horizon Zero Dawn... yeah... I've been busy.

Reviews

rmarcano321 - I think i answered the first one in PM. And sorta, Ragland initially was going to go for a Norse naming scheme but then switched over to the Christian mythos because the Eden name is so fitting.

helkil - Yeah, gonna do that at some point. And i doubt that many given that the views to this story are pretty low. So people are going to have review a lot to keep my spirits up on these spin offs.

Xalimech - No, once a Construct has stabilized its strain they all look the same. Maybe with get a few scars or grow a little more than others. And there are evolved versions of each Construct. Like Pretorian variant of the Legionary

odflou - thank you.


	4. Everything Okay?

The General stood before the abandoned Angel of Mercy hospital. He did this often, looking at what could be his crowning achievement, his grand contribution to the Blacklight cause. Still, it would be just a silly dream until he made it real, and if his enemies had their way then such a thing would never come to pass. But he would not let them win. With all his will and power he would make sure that they would pay for even daring to stand against him.

When he thought of this, he was not referring to the mere humans that opposed him. They could literally be defeated with a single breath. All it would take would be to walk up to them and breathe out one of the many unstable strains of Blacklight and it would be done. It was the quick and easy way of handling it but not the most productive.

But when the General thought of the ones that opposed him it was people like Eden, whispers in the night that sought to dismantle everything that was Blacklight. Eden had come to Miami and somehow was finding his Infected and using some poor fool to do its dirty work, this so-called Ice Truck Killer, one that had apparently taken a interest in Dexter Morgan. If that was the battlefield that Eden had chosen, so be it. It would be a proxy-battle of killers supported by Viral Beings.

"If you wish to kill me… then you have not brought nearly enough men." The General said absently as he glanced at the several thugs that were encircling him. All of them were of the last remaining hold out that was putting up a fight. Leading them was Carlos Guerrero, a silly criminal that had at least enough cunning to take the violence directly to his biggest enemy. If the General had remained human than he would consider the man a worthy adversary. But that was not reality.

"Our boss wants you and your boys out of Miami… I'm not really thinking you'll do that. But there are ways to get what the boss wants." One of the thugs said with a savage smirk as he and his fellow goons pulled out their weapons. Pointless and suicidal, this happened far too often for Guerrero not have gotten the message. The General did not hide, he did not fear being found.

"Haven't we been through this before? Or maybe Guerrero wasn't one of those that learned the lesson of what happens when… no… I'm sure I have sent his enforcers back to him learned men." The General said as he walked over to the nearest thug. Under his suit a mass of viral tissue was rippling at the ready to form the mutations and weapons of battle.

"Quédate atrás bastardo." The thug snarled as it rushed forward with a crowbar, only to be decapitated with a single finger stroke. This attack was something that the General had developed all on his own: the Micro Bio-Claws. On the surface, his hands appeared human, but the underside was sharpened to a deadly razor. Its effect was undeniable in every instance, a fact the General remained proud of.

"W-what the fuck…" One of the other thugs gasped as he tried to understand what he just saw. The General thought about just leaving it at that, letting them go so that they could spread the word of just how pointless it was to challenge the leader of the Saints of Samedi. No, he had done that before and it did not show the wanted outcome of the attacks ending and leaving him in peace. So before the thugs could turn and run he lifted his hands and shot out a bladed tendril into each of their necks. A series of thumps rang out as they all dropped to the ground.

"What a waste…" The General mumbled as he pulled out his cellphone. "… Oscar, send a clean-up crew to the north side of the Angel of Mercy. No, I have a reservation that I don't wish to ruin by eating now. Yes… yes you may go ahead with your little ploy." The gang leader said before he hung up and took one last look to the abandoned hospital. "Soon… very soon."

* * *

Dexter was floating in the water. As he lay there, lazily suspended in the river, the rest of the world seemed to fall away. This was the one place that he could be sure that he was alone. If anyone came near him, he would feel the ripples they created in the water and Blacklight for all its powers had a weakness to it. Something about cell walls not being solid enough, Dexter didn't mind to learn much about it. Blacklight was a beast that he could never beat on his own, so there was little point in learning its weakness.

He knew it was a defeatist mindset, but it was a realistic one. He was on the right side of Blacklight anyways, and there wasn't much that could change that. He followed their rules, not very hard to do, and was polite and careful as he was to ordinary people. Ironic, Blacklight liked to think it was beyond normal human ways of thinking but it was very basic when it came down to the bare facts. It was easily summed up by their number one rule… Family is Sacred. As long as Dexter kept that in mind they wouldn't touch him.

So there he was… drifting along with his boat nearby. In his mind he was a a waiting crocodile, gently moving through the surface of the water watching everything in sight. Waiting for its next meal… or maybe waiting for nothing at all.

Suddenly, his daydream was interrupted by the feeling of water rushing over his face and waves jerking his body around. After a moment of realigning himself he saw that his quiet time had been brought to an end by a group of jet skiers. He watched them for a few moments, the sea monster he was today, but soon enough he vanished under the water and came back out near his boat.

"Hey, my friend!" Unexpectedly he found Oscar Prado waiting for him on his boat dressed in a hawaiian shirt, sunglasses, and flip-flops like he was on vacation. "This is one fine vessel you have here. I'm impressed that you could have such a treat on a cop's salary." Oscar said before he took a drink out of his beer bottle. Dexter climbed out of the water with a glare, not enjoying the sudden intrusion on his property. But again… he had to deal with it given that Oscar was… a person very difficult to refuse.

"What are you doing here Oscar?" Dexter asked as he pulled an apple out of his cooler.

"Boss man greenlighted my idea. I'm gonna die and you are gonna help me do it." Oscar said as he leaned back into the small lawn chair that he brought with him. "And I've got the perfect way to kill two birds with one stone."

"How's that?" Dexter walked over to face the Gamma, slightly blocking the bright sun on the man. Oscar frowned and looked up over the top of his sunglasses.

"Do you not see that I'm tanning here imbécil?" He asked, but Dexter didn't respond beyond taking another bite of his apple. "Fine… be that way." Oscar grumbled as he sat back up. "So here's what I got going. In a few days I'm going to be found dead in the home of one Fred "Freebo" Bowman, a drug dealer that hasn't been understanding the new Saints way of doing things. We make it look like Freebo kills me… you and your department show up and you and Miguel talk or something when he comes to the crime scene. Because he will. He'll be vulnerable, even after all the fighting between us he still loves me. My loss will make him question things and be open to someone new to come in to fill the void."

"This all sounds kind of shaky… how am I supposed get close to Miguel?"

"He's paranoid, he'll think the big boss had something to do about my death. When he'll show up at the crime scene he'll ask a ton of questions. You will be there and you can describe what happened. Just do your normal job on this, don't worry, I can bleed out normal blood that will be like a humans'. Basically… get him thinking about you in some way. At least make put you on his radar. Something. With all the knowledge I got from this head shrinker I consumed and with how well I know my brother… I'm sure he'll do something stupid and open the door for you to walk into his life."

"And from there what should I do?" Dexter asked as he was seriously beginning to question the task in front of him. Killing people was simple… just an end. But this was something else entirely. This was deep manipulation on a level that Dexter, the monster he was, found to be rather disturbing.

"Depends on just what he wants from you. We can take it from there. By that point I will be in the morgue and we can have my body switched out for a fancy biomass construct that looks like me." Oscar said as he leaned back down. "Now if you don't mind bringing us back to land please. I'm getting a little paranoid myself being out in the water for so long." Oscar said before tipping his hat over his eyes.

* * *

Doakes was, as usual, not happy. He rarely if ever found a happy moment in his life these days but today… was something special. At first he thought that the day would go by normal: deal with bullshit, deal with Morgan being creepy-as-fuck, and then the constant mindfuck of what happened days ago in his car. But then he heard about Ricky Simmons being dropped down from the freeway. That was a hit, for more than Ricky just being a fellow cop.

James and Maria both headed to Ricky's house to tell his wife the unfortunate news. Which even now made James have to suppress the snort of irritation. She had been ready to file the divorce papers as soon as her husband had gotten off his case. Some women just can't handle their husbands being undercover for so long. The ideas of what they had to do, or who they had to do, to fit in with their cover was a constant to them. Even so… still made Doakes feel guilty about what was going on between him and Kara.

But then to find her dying on her floor from being shot in the back. That hit James like a bullet train. The nights with Kara were some of the few he went to sleep content, the nightmares of his life not clawing their way at him. Just peace. And now even that was gone now.

"Ricky Simmons was on an undercover job in the Guerrero Cartel." The Captain said as he hung up his phone. James was laser-focused, his movements like a caged animal waiting to be set free. And with what the captain said he now had something to chew on. "He'd been working it for nearly a year. No sign that it was going to anything near this level of failure." Matthews said before looking at the stains of blood Morgan was taking pictures of. "This… going after his wife. That's stepping into new territory for Guerrero. Guess the Saints of Samedi are pushing him that hard. And what a pushing it is… pissing off every cop in Miami." The Captain said before leaving the house.

"What happened to the wife?" Doakes asked making sure not to refer to Kara by her name. He couldn't let people know. That would blacklist him for this investigation for sure, and he needed to be the one to bring Guerrero down. He didn't care that Guerrero was the General's number one competitor, Guerrero had made this personal beyond what Keambiroiro had done in the past.

"She's still in surgery." Maria answered and Doakes took a deep breath. There was a chance. At least there was a chance. He needed to get some air. He stepped out of the house while the lab rats did their thing. James took several moments to try and collect his breath but being near the house just felt suffocating to him. His feet started moving, and eventually he was all the way down at the end of the street. That was when he couldn't move. "Not this shit again. Motherf-"

"Hello Officer Doakes, happy to meet once again." The same voice, this time from behind. "I see that you're not so very happy. But not angry like last time… no… sad. I can see why."

" _Just! Move! Damn body_!" James screamed in his head to try and move any part of his body, his eyes, his mouth, even his toes, all to no avail.

"I can save her… because if I don't she'll die." At that all thought of escape dropped from Doakes' mind like a rock in a pool. Kara... "All you have to do is one teensy little thing." James felt something greasy and oily being placed in his hand. "What I have just given you is a little friend called Beleth-78, it's a nasty little creature to anyone else that isn't its host. All you have to do… is put it to your ear and then I will save Kara. And after that… we can talk a little more about those two gang bosses you hate so much." At that, the voice left, and minutes later Doakes could move his body again. He didn't even try to look for the person that held him hostage. Instead he looked down to his hand, within which was it was wriggling mess of dead black eyes and tentacles.

"He wants me to put this thing near my ear…" James mumbled in disgust at the creature in his palm. It was monstrous, and there was only one thing that would happen if he did so. It would crawl up in him and do all sorts of freaky-ass shit. But then again… the other option was to let Kara die, and she was going to die. James had seen the wound when he found her on the ground, her blood covering her body and staining the floor. Not only that… but this offer wasn't something a person like that man would make if there was a chance of it being made redundant by some doctor saving her. As James stared down at the disgusting parasite, he could do it for love, he could do it for hate… there wasn't any reason not to do it other than being weak.

And so, he carefully looked around and saw that he was completely alone. He gritted his teeth and pulled his hand near his head. It didn't take much for the thing to get the hint. It was most disgusting and wrong feeling in the world as he felt it push and slide itself into his head, never fully entering in. Instead it began to meld into his face and work itself under his skin and then his skull. One of the first things it had done was wrap two tentacles through his mouth and clamp it shut so he couldn't scream.

Doakes dropped to his knees as the creature began to wiggle its way into his brain. A flood of sensation and thoughts burst into James' mind, all of them pounding him with ideas and feelings that weren't his own as he struggled to maintain that he was in fact James Doakes. In the raptures of the experience he caught glimpses into a world that wasn't the one he knew. A great expanse devoid of anything but swirling colors and abstract forms. In it he saw a great system of lights, each swirling around larger and larger ones. At the center a bright green one that gave him the clear impression of the General, even though it had no features that would mark it as such.

And then he was ripped out of it all. Suddenly, he felt perfectly fine. Like nothing had happened before and all that had changed was now he was on his knees and slightly out of breath. James blinked and tried to recall just what he saw and heard and felt but only small snippets in his mind.

"James?" Doakes looked up and saw Maria looking down at him with a worried look on her face. Everything felt so much more detailed now. He could tell that her worry was honest, but at the same time suspicious as to the reason why. It went beyond mere detective instincts… his mind was hyper-aware of everything that was going on. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah… just… Maria I have to be a honest here." He knew, he knew that now it didn't matter if he was taken off the Guerrero investigation. He didn't need the rules of the department anymore. He just knew this. "Kara and I… we've been seeing each other and…" He didn't get to finish as Maria put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"James… it's perfectly fine to feel. You really need to get that through your head." She said slightly laughing. But James knew she wasn't taking this too well, not from a professional level, more like a personal one. "The business between you and Kara… that's yours. But right now you need to keep that under control if you want to avoid becoming the target of the entire department."

"Right… so you won't tell anyone?" Doakes asked but he knew the answer.

"Of course, but I want you to take this whole thing ease. I won't tell people but I need you to promise me that you won't do anything crazy if I'm going to have keep to this okay?"

"Sure… nothing crazy."

* * *

Dexter was up in his apartment early in the morning. He was at his desk looking at the hand of the doll that the Ice Truck Killer left him. Each of the nails had been painted a different color. It had to mean something. This was a thinking game, a game where every tiny detail was a carefully planned move, and right now it was Dexter's turn. To make it make worse, or better depending on which of the players you asked, there was a timer.

"He said that he had a deadline… but did Eden give it to him or is it a personal one?" Dexter asked himself absentmindedly as he stared at the doll part. He had swabbed and scrubbed it for any residue of the black ooze that had animated it. No such luck. He should have tried to follow it that night but that thought had slipped his mind in the moment. "Piece of a puzzle… but it's like I don't have all of them." But his musings were interrupted by the sound of his sister's ringtone. "Deb… what is it?"

"Wow don't you sound alive and perky… but whatever. So… Miami's the haystack… and the Ice Truck's the needle." No way… Dexter couldn't believe that this was as simple as it was looking like. "Well brother… I just found the fucking needle!"

"Okay… just… text me the address or something and I'll be right over." At that Dexter hung up and began to place all the doll parts back into the freezer like he found them. Except the head, that he kept. It took him about ten minutes to get to where Debra was and as he was walking from his car to his sister… he could see the Ice Truck across a few streets. "How'd you find it?" Dexter asked as he approached his sister.

"Put the word out to the beat cops, you know the whole hiding in plain sight thing. Juan-Pierre flagged this one and called me in." Debra explained as they came to the other side of the street from the idling Ice Truck. Dexter meanwhile could not believe that this was just Debra's good police work. She was a decent cop but… all of Blacklight in Miami had been looking for any refrigerated trucks they could track down. They couldn't find it. But Debra found it, his sister Debra. Dexter knew for certain that the Ice Truck Killer wouldn't have let anyone but who he wanted find this truck. That simple fact worried Dexter.

"This is a busy street, anyone see anything?" Dexter asked knowing that someone had to. And odds are someone Infected had to. Unless Eden's pets did something to keep Infected away long enough for Debra to find it.

"The restaurant manager said that it was here when he opened up." This was getting more and more dangerous for Dexter by the second. Everything in his body told him that something was very off. "Is this the one you saw?" Debra asked looking to Dexter for confirmation.

" _I feel like a kid at his own surprise party… only the surprise is that everyone's been mutilated and butchered_." Dexter thought as he began to take a few steps closer. This was the truck that he saw, it had to be… the odds of it not being it could not be ignored. But he couldn't share this sureness with his sister. "Maybe? A little hard to think back and pull details… it all happened so fast."

"Let's go on a non-forensic-geek limb here and say that it is." Debra not having the time to question her chance into Homicide. "Why's it still running?" There was only one single reason why.

'It keeps the back cold." Dexter said knowing that something must be locked inside.

* * *

The General sat back in his own home in Miami, a large villa overlooking the sandy beaches the city was well-known for. It was a grand palace that any multimillionaire would be proud to have. What the General loved about it was that it was a war trophy, taken from the former most powerful drug lord in the city. After a few changes in color to carpets and drapes and some new artwork it was perfect.

"General." Abdulla said as approached his Alpha. "I am not questioning your wisdom… but are you sure that Oscar's plan is the best approach to his mongrel brother?" The Beta asked as he sat down next to his leader.

"Yes, and I do believe that Miguel is Oscar's problem to solve." Keambiroiro said before taking a short drag on his cigar. "I am… a little apprehensive to the use of Dexter Morgan in his plan. As this Ice Truck Killer business seems to have a strong pull for him. But… Dexter has agreed and we need to court Dexter to our side."

"But why him? What makes Dexter Morgan so special?" Abdalla asked, not finding anything about the serial killer that remarkable. He was precise for a human sure… but his position in the department wasn't key, he didn't have any family lines that could be used, and his physical skills were average. To Blacklight… he wasn't much.

"I am not sure… letting him live was a whim for me. He was amusing at the time. But now it seems that he has a larger part to play." The General said as he stood up and walked over to the half wall that lined his patio to the small rockside that led down to the beach. "Now is not the time to lose focus. Our biggest worries are Eden, and Mercer's upcoming arrival in Miami."

"The show starring Avarice Mercy has been arranged, the Saints proper have handled it themselves. We are handling everything beyond the convention center and the stadium." Abdulla informed as he recalled the meeting he had just come from on the subject. "Mercer will want to meet Auri."

"Angel has confided in me of his worries over such a meeting." Keambiroiro sighed. He knew that this situation with the Naturals was a ticking time bomb. "From what we have seen with Angel's daughter there will be no issue. She is a well-adjusted and friendly girl. She has shown no sign of being a danger to humans."

"That is what was said about Julius Gat." Abdulla shuddered as he remembered a few of the rumors that surrounded that child.

"He is a Blacklight teenager… and the son of Johnny Gat. There was no outcome that didn't involve a bit of bloodshed with that child." The General scoffed. The rumors that circled the first Natural were out of control. There was a grain of truth to them but only a small grain. "Auri is not Julius, and the Hives are looking to Mercer for guidance on this matter. He will not harm her, and if he takes her I doubt it will be without her parents' consent."

"But they are yours Alpha." Abdulla objected but went silent at the General's raised hand.

"And Mercer is the Supreme Alpha. If one of the other Alphas even dared to suggest they could take one of my Evolved, I would utterly destroy them." He said, causing a few cracks in the stone wall under his hand.

* * *

Dexter watched as they opened the door to the back of the Ice Truck. A fog of cold air drifted out as he, Angel and Debra all entered cautiously. To his relief, all that was there was a single block of ice. There were no monsters with dead black eyes ready to rip and tear him to pieces. But then again, Angel was there so maybe it would be more interested in killing him first.

"Dios Mio…" Angel mumbled as he looked at the small block of ice. Dexter looked harder and saw five finger tips suspended where they would be if still attached to a hand.

"Clean slices… no blood." Dexter said as he looked through the ice to see his playmate's handiwork. "I'm guessing they drained the body before making these cuts."

"How'd he do that… some kind of pump?" Debra asked but both Angel and Dexter shrugged. "Well… however he did it, he's a fucking butcher." She said before exiting the back of the truck leaving the boys to talk.

"So… how'd he do it? The old-fashioned way of stringing them up and letting the heart do it?" Dexter asked as he looked to Angel who shook his head.

"Nah… the guys back at the lab are going crazy on how he gets every bit of it out. But what We guess is he's doing it by some type of monster than can pull the blood out like you're sucking on a straw." Angel said, clearly not happy about this anymore than Debra was. Dexter on the other hand was quite joyful, more pieces to the puzzle.

"Any idea on why you guys didn't find this truck first?" Dexter asked even though he ran the risk of drawing attention to Deb.

"No clue… but he's got to have some means of getting our people to keep away from this place." Angel said scratching the back of his head in frustration. "Listen… this shit is getting really bad. I do not need this right now." Dexter felt like he should just nod and keep out. But that wasn't the smart move here. If the Ice Truck Killer had a patron, than Dexter would need one too.

"Something going on?" Dexter asked as he and Angel stepped out of the truck.

"It's what coming." Angel nervously chuckled. "You know that I have a daughter right, Auri."

"Yeah." Dexter not sure where this was going.

"Evolved don't have normal kids. We have Naturals, people that are entirely Blacklight from birth. It's a really new thing and it still makes people nervous." Angel explained and Dexter could see why. But this still didn't sound like something that would make Angel worry. His daughter was a few years old and there hadn't been a problem before. "The biggest thing is how their brains are wired, they don't see people as, you know, people. When they're born they see humans, uninfected humans, like how humans see dogs, cats… or cows. Human and Viral aren't equal to them."

"That… could go very wrong." Dexter had no other way of putting it given what Viral Beings were capable of doing.

"Oh yeah. People who don't like Naturals call them the Blacklight Nazis. There's a big thing over whether they should be even allowed. Even Zeus isn't that firmly on board with the idea." Angel said looking over his shoulder for a second. Dexter recognized the look in his eye, it was pure fear, the same kind Dexter's victims had before he killed them. "The only reason why he hasn't called for the end of Naturals is because he's the godfather of his Beta's Natural. He's coming to Miami."

"Alex Mercer is coming to Miami?" Dexter asked a little surprised at this. Alex Mercer had always been a figure of mystery to Dexter. Publicly he was like a boogeyman, the one responsible for the New York Outbreak. But to those Infected he was on the same level as a god. The Supreme Alpha was the undisputed leader of the Hives.

"Not 'Alex Mercer' but Avarice Mercy, his public persona." Angel said with a small smile. "When he gets here he's going to want to see Auri, and I don't know how that meeting's gonna end." The Gamma waved his hand around the back of the truck. "Then there's this shit going on, and the business with the Angel of Mercy hospital…" Angel trailed off, but Dexter realized something. That was the Ice Truck Killer's deadline. Whatever Eden and he had… it had to happen before Alex Mercer got to Miami.

"Angel… when does Mercer get here?" Dexter asked carefully.

"Four months… why?"


End file.
